Those Who Favor Fire
by Miharu is Harukas Love Child 2
Summary: It was a day like any other. The birds were singing. The Wammy's kids were studying. Matt was playing his games under a tree, rubbing his pregnant belly...wait his WHAT? MPREG, M/M, Co-Authored with The Original Gamer


Part 1, Conception: MATT POV

A/N: I didn't write _this chapter_ , but it's technically my property now. It's part of a collaborative fic that _The Original Gamer_ was writing with me years ago. We dreamed up an MPREG over messenger once upon a time and she wrote the intro part from Matt's POV. I think she did a bang up job, but as this was supposed to be her and I switching POVs, and I honestly cannot match her Matt's voice for shit, only this chapter will be in Matt POV. The rest of the fic will be in Mello's POV and will be written entirely by me (because _The Original Gamer_ jumped ship to other fandoms. And yes, I have been in contact with her recently. She's doing fine btw)

* * *

 _9/3/2015 - Los Angeles, CA_

I've recently discovered that is never a good idea to answer a phone, no matter the situation, like this: "Mello's personal secretary speaking. The man's busy _fucking the ever living shit out of me_ right now. Leave a message?"

Because you'll more than likely get an answer like this: " _Mr. Jeevas!_ That is no way to speak to...well, any person! What on Earth would possess you to answer a phone in that manner? I am utterly-" ...In other words, a very long lecture. And a pissed off boyfriend...and you end up blue balled, which isn't particularly pleasant.

But, hey, Roger got to his reason behind calling eventually. Mello and I had packed our bags and managed to get tickets for the first plane to England within the hour. Fantastic really, despite the still fuming blonde, as I'd been secretly wanting to go back to the country for a while now.

...Even if in this case, considering who'd requested we'd go, it was probably for some business rubbish.

* * *

 _9/5/2015 - Wammy's House, Winchester_

After nearly twelve painful hours of travel, I found myself suffering some serious deja vu. The office was uncomfortably familiar, with it's large windows that gave a perfect view of the lawn in the back of the building. Moonlight streamed in through said windows, the one thing reminding my tired mind that I was not here to receive a lecture from the old man about the lack of effort put into my studies, or over one of Mello's schemes. Roger wasn't one to call us to his office so late...or was it early? Damn, I couldn't even think straight.

I sagged slightly against Mello, who was giving off an icy aura I hadn't encountered in him since our days in the Kira case. It was understandable though, I guess, considering the last time he'd been in here Roger had been the bearer of some pretty epically bad news. When the man offered his hand, he merely stared blankly at it, his own hands remaining firmly at his side. I sighed, reaching out mine to give Roger the desired shake...though I hadn't really wanted to myself. It wasn't like I had anything in particular against the old man, we'd been on pretty good terms I'd thought. It was just the matter of our last conversation.

I was pretty sure Roger was just as willing to put that behind us as I was, though, so I s'pose it wasn't actually that big a deal. The silence was still growing swiftly awkward however, so I cleared my throat. Both Mello and Roger's eyes snapped onto me. I flushed, holding up my hands. "Well no one was saying anything!" I mumbled in defense, earning a snort from Mello. I shot him an almost pouty look for this, knowing good and well that he was just as curious as I was about what we were here for.

...Though, unlike me, when Mello didn't get answers, he became impatient. And when he got impatient...well, his icy glare was speaking volumes. He'd been even more unhappy to leave our cozy (but still rather shoddy) flat in LA than I had, so his mood was already foul. It wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge. Thankfully Roger seemed to sense this. The old git gave a throat clearing cough of his own, gesturing towards the ancient looking chairs in front of his desk. "Why don't you boys have a seat?"

"We're twenty-five Roger, hardly boys." Mello deadpanned, but he sat anyway. I made to take a seat as well, but Mello's finger caught a belt loop, dragging me backwards and onto his lap. I gave him an indignant look over my shoulder, but he merely shrugged, looping his arms around my waist casually. The grip itself was tight, preventing any escape should I dare try...though I guess we both knew I wouldn't bother. He was doing it just to bug Roger...and admittedly the look on his face was worth it. It was the exact same look I remembered him giving us when we'd been caught making-out in the kitchens (which may have been questionable to an outsider seeing as there had been shirtless-ness and chocolate sauce involved). The old git was a bloody prude, honestly.

Amazingly, he smoothed over his expression, something he definitely hadn't been able to do ten years ago. "My apologies." He certainly didn't sound very apologetic, and was still kind of giving us the evil eye. He gave another little cough, folding his hands on the desk before him. "I'm sure you are both wondering why I asked that you visit,"

It was all I could do not to scoff. "No shit," I muttered, causing Mello to snicker quietly and Roger to raise a brow.

"Something wrong, Mr. Jeevas?" I was already getting sick of this 'Mr. Jeevas" rubbish, but I s'pose that just came with adulthood so I didn't bother protesting.

Instead I just shrugged, gesturing for him to continue. "Not at all, sir."

"Very well then," The old git seemed a bit pleased with the 'sir' (a little kiss-assery never hurt anyone, used it on Mels all the time), though his expression grew grave again seconds later. "You are here to attend a funeral," Roger heaved a wheezy sounding sigh, and I found myself wondering if it was him who was planning on dying. "Near's," He finally offered in explanation, successfully shocking both Mello and I.

The blonde made a sort of gasp, standing abruptly...completely disregarding the fact that I had been in his lap. And was now on the floor with a throbbing ass. "Ow! You fucking wanker!" But he only shushed me, putting his hands on the edge of Roger's desk and leaning in, expression intent.

"Are you serious? The fucker's dead?" His tone was breathy, holding back his excitement I figured. I made some remark about what a sick fuck he was, getting excited over someone's funeral, only earning myself a sharp kick to the hip. "Can it, bitch."

"Language, both of you!" Roger snapped, followed by another cough. I recalled my suspicions from years ago that the old man was a smoker, seriously tempted to check his desk for a pack. I could really use one right about now. "There are still children in this institute, and I do not want them picking up on your bad habits." He sniffed in a contemptuous fashion. "As for your question, Mello...No, he is merely staging his death."

Mello seemed a tad disappointed at this, and I couldn't help but snicker. The bastard had just kicked me for no good reason, and he laughed at my disappointment all the time! I felt quite justified. Neither he nor Roger seemed to notice, however. Brill, let's ignore the bloke in pain on the floor. Potential domestic abuse victim here!

"Well, why the fuck is he doing that?" Leave it to Mello to already disregard a request of Roger's. Right asshole, he was.

The older man gave a shrug, regarding Mello with exasperation. "He knew you would question his decision, and requested that I tell you it was his own business, not yours." I had to bite back another laugh at Mello's expression. But really it was so _typical_ of Near. He liked to push Mello's buttons, just as I did, really. Only he pushed them better. I could almost admire the bloke for that...except for the fact that Mello would sooner die than lay a hand on the creepy git like he did me.

Mello grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, grabbing my arm and yanking me into a standing position. My eyes watered slightly from the pain of it, but I was fairly used to the blonde throwing me around like a rag doll. "Well then," He huffed...rather girlishly, in my opinion. "We'll see you at the funeral. We're taking our old room until then," That being said, he turned out the door. Despite his outward annoyance though, I knew he was rather pleased with this occurrence. It was actually pretty amusing, as far as I was concerned. Plus I imagined he'd be horny as hell, like he always was when he was in a good mood, and that worked just fine for me.

"And Matt?" Roger's tone sounded more tired than it had a second ago. I tilted my head at him, shifting awkwardly on the balls of my feet. I was fairly sure about what he was going to say next. "...Please refrain from...copulating for the duration of your stay."

"Er..." It was then that Mello decided to bark an impatient 'Matt!', cutting through the awkward silence. It wouldn't surprise me if the bastard was after sex now, even if we'd just been at it in the van that had brought us here. "Sure thing," He managed to muster something of a smile, nodding. I offered a half wave, turning towards the door to face my randy companion. "Cheers."

* * *

 _9/10/2015- Wammy's House, Winchester_

Contrary to my assumptions, Mello hadn't jumped my ass the moment we got back to our old room. In fact, he hadn't touched me. At all. In _five bloody days._ I mean, sure we spent most of the first couple days sleeping (jet lag is a bitch). But after that? No excuse. He wouldn't even let me shower with him, the git!

And, as the lack of physical contact weren't bad enough, Mello had decided to torture me by dragging me along to "catch up" with all our old "friends" that were showing up as the funeral approached. Friends that had talked and talked about their marriages (most of which were with fellow Wammy's folk) and lives. Mel'd just hummed and nodded, obviously not that into it. Not that I'd expected him to be. It wasn't as if we'd been the most sociable lot, us Wammy's kids. Most of us had stuck to our pairs, groups of threes or fours, and that was that.

Unfortunately, the entire time I'd been too busy to ponder the reason behind this whole thing we were doing. It seemed every girl that had cooed over/attempted to coddle me back when I'd been a kid had their radars or whatever set on me. It was a nightmare, especially when the crazy bints had decided to _pawn their kids off on me._ "Just for a minute," They'd said, and I'd found myself in the company of their toddlers and, too my horror, even an infant once. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over so well. The thing had started screaming bloody murder and, well, neither I nor Mello really knew what to do about it. A real fiasco that had been.

But, thankfully that particular horror was over with. I'd dealt with Mello's damn not-touching-me thing for one more (painful) day in the privacy of our old room, sulkily ignoring him behind my ancient handheld, which I'd found in the drawer right where I'd left it.

Anyway, five days is a _long_ fucking time to go without his addictive touch, especially days like those. So I hardly protested when Mello decided to drag me out of the room where the funeral's reception of sorts was being held. They'd put off the actual burial, something about the rain, so I guess they'd decided to skip right to the part where people sniffled about their losses over their food. In other words, a perfect time to have the sex I'd been so cruelly denied.

I didn't think it was odd when Mello dragged me to a door where the lock had to be picked. Honestly, the only thing on my mind right now was stripping that damn suit off him. It would be far easier than his leather, though admittedly he didn't look quite as good in it...I practically jumped him even so, dragging him inside the room once I'd unlocked the door. He held up a finger, gesturing for me to wait a minute. I couldn't help but whine softly at this. A minute was way too bloody long!

Thankfully, he'd only wanted to shut and lock the door again before grabbing me by the front of my jacket. There was a hungry smirk on his lips that made me shiver and rest my hands behind his head in order to pull him into an equally hungry kiss. His own hands fell to my hips, pushing me back as he stepped forward. Eventually my back bumped into something hard, stopping our movement. It was too uneven to be the wall, so I looked over my shoulder curiously.

...And saw the coffin. The bloody _coffin!_ I mean, I knew there wasn't a dead person inside or anything...but still. I yelped despite myself, jumping forward. Or trying anyway, but Mello halted my retreat with his firm grip on my waist. "You'll have to be quiet, Matt. You remember how thin these walls are." His lips fell to my throat, nipping at the sensitive skin. It took all my strength not to melt against him and instead rest my hands on his chest to give him a light shove.

"Mels," I hissed, finally getting him to look up. His eyes were lusty, though his lips curled downwards in annoyance. I cringed a bit, trying to squirm away. "Not here. That's…well, it's freaking creepy!"

Mello merely smirked at this, dipping his fingers into the hem of my pants. The skin-on-skin contact caused another shudder to run down my spine. Unfair, that's what this was. Bloody unfair. He'd probably planned this all along, knowing it'd be even harder than usual to resist him, no matter the location. And _fuck_ it was. So. Hard. "I'm just paying my respects to Near."

"By fucking me on his coffin?"

"Yes," His tone was nonchalant, but his eyes gleamed with malice alongside the lust. His own hips had managed to shift against mine, and I could feel how hard he was. Of course, _of fucking course_. Mello would be the type to get turned on by this whole situation, and it was only a fake death! But…I guess since there wasn't really a body in there, it wasn't so bad, right? What could it hurt? After a moment, I sighed…and wasn't even given the time to answer before Mello's lips were on mine again.

I gave a surprised noise but that quickly changed into a moan under Mello's bruising ministrations. My fingers found their way into his hair once more, clutching at the soft strands as I tried to gain some kind of ground in the kiss. I failed, miserably really, Mello making his dominance quite clear, as per usual. It wasn't like I minded really, too busy struggling with the buttons on his shirt anyway. Why were there so many? Damnit! I cursed under my breath and Mello pulled away, arching a brow.

"Problems?" He sounded amused…but thankfully didn't stop to be an ass about it as he normally might have, starting to unbutton the shirt himself. He was as eager for this as I was, judging by the way he practically tore my shirt open when he was finished with his own. I vaguely registered the sound of a few buttons hitting the ground, which made me laugh breathily. "What?" Mello half snapped, yanking off his tie and tossing it in the general direction he'd already thrown his jacket and shirt.

"Fucking suits, is all." I mumbled, struggling out of my own jacket. I hated dressing up as it was, but it was even more irritating now that the attire was in the way of much needed sex. He grumbled some type of response and shoved the jacket over my shoulders, possibly tearing my shirt more as he tugged that off as well. No time was wasted before he dove in to capture my lips again, jerking at the belt to my pants as he did.

"Looked damn good in it," Mello murmured quickly, I almost didn't catch it. He'd never been one for compliments, so this only made my stomach twist tighter with want. "But you look better," He slid the slacks down my hips, and I obligingly stepped out of them and kicked the clothes aside. "With nothing on," There was a smirk in his tone now, lips meeting my neck again. My fingers trembled as I undid his own pants, but somehow I managed to undo them. So much easier than the leather…"At all," He bit down, drawing a gasp from my throat. That was sure to leave a mark, he always did. Typical Mello. "Squirming," And squirm I did with his nails digging angry red lines against my chest, breath catching with every touch. " _Moaning_ ," My own fingers set about yanking down his boxers, clasping at the arousal they'd held back, getting a soft moan out of _him_. "Under me," He half growled this, and before I knew it my chest was pressing into the cold wood of the coffin. Technically I wasn't under him now…but his teeth found purchase against the back of neck and I really didn't care about technicalities anymore.

The prepping process was sloppy, as was only to be expected when you didn't have niceties like lube. Each finger he added burned, but fuck it was such a delicious sensation even so. My fingers clenched against the top of the coffin, having nothing really to grip onto. "Mel _lo_." The moan was breathy, but loud, echoing off the walls of the large room.

His hand, unfortunately the one that had been stroking my cock to help ease away the pain of his fingers, came up to cover my mouth. He leaned closer, hissing in my ear. "Quiet, dumbass. Remember? It wouldn't do to get caught," I nodded to show I understood, but he still hesitated before removing his hand.

Both hands, actually, and I whimpered despite myself at the loss off his fingers. He shushed me, pressing his lips against my shoulder as he started to enter me. My eyes watered at the sting of the stretch, clenching my fingers at the edge of the coffin. He mumbled absentminded reassurances into my ear, since he wasn't exactly being slow about the whole thing. I didn't want him to be, even though it fucking hurt. I knew it was going to get better…so I pushed back against him, burying my face in the crook of my arm at the same time.

"Shit, Matt." Mello's moan was muffled against my shoulder, digging his fingernails into my hips. His own hips rolled forward, in turn driving his cock deeper into me. My breath caught sharply in my throat, and I instinctively snatched one of the hands that were resting on my hip, squeezing it tightly. I bit down on my other hand, an attempt to muffle any further noises. He hesitated at this. "Do I need to wait?"

I paused myself before shaking my head. I'd had my fair share of rough sex, and really this wasn't that bad. Plus, I was kind of pleased he'd bothered asking, a newer habit I'd noticed.

There was still another brief pause before he did move, but when he did he really _moved_. The sound of flesh hitting against flesh quickly filled the room, and pain inched closer to pleasure. He wiggled his hand out of mine, grasping my hip tightly again for support as his thrusts gained speed.

The coppery taste of blood exploded on my tongue from biting too hard on my hand. I didn't pull it back though, knowing we'd surely be caught if I didn't have something to muffle the moans. It was bloody intense, Mello nipping along my shoulders as he thrust, his soft moans and grunts of efforts ringing in my ears. The wood of the coffin retained it's chill, contrasting sharply with my now overheated skin.

It was quick. With Mello's hitting my prostate every other thrust and his hands all over me, that was only to be expected. Every muscle in my body tightened, and quivered, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as the climax hit. I made the mistake of releasing my hand from my teeth in order to rest it against the coffin for further support as I trembled, crying out Mello's name loudly. It wasn't long until a particularly sharp bite to my shoulder and a strained gasp signaled Mello's own orgasm.

"Was fucking good," He mumbled, still panting softly.

"Mm...fantastic," I managed in response, resting my head on my arm once more. Content. Which left us standing there panting, me slumped against the coffin and the blonde slumped over my back. Neither of us could muster the strength, or desire, to move, save for his nuzzling gently against my shoulder.

Until, that was, we heard the click of the lock and the creak of the door opening, painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room. We both jumped simultaneously. Me to try to get at our clothes...and Mello to pull me against his chest. I just knew he was wearing that amused/defiant look he'd worn so many times back when we'd lived here. I didn't try to check though, just squeezing my eyes shut tight.

"Hey Roger," Mello greeted amiably, like we weren't standing there starkers or anything. Judging by the rustle and snickers, more than just Roger was standing there. I could practically hear the old git fuming, building up the force of the lecture that was sure to follow.

"Just like old times," I muttered to myself. But I had to admit, I was pleased to be home.

* * *

A/N: So everything from here on out will be written by ME and will be from Mello's POV. How do you guys like it so far? I fucking loooove The Original Gamer's writing style, and I'm really sorry that I can't match it, but I will do my best.

I already know how I'm going to do it, but if you had to guess, how would you explain Matt's pregnancy? :O


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